


Radiation

by Golbez



Series: Little Boxes [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Human, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:44:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golbez/pseuds/Golbez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-apocalyptic Humanformer AU. Jazz and Bluestreak fall witness to big changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radiation

**Author's Note:**

> And yet another AU that I have plenty of ideas for. In this AU, everyone is human in a post-apocalyptic setting. The Autobots wear suits that keep them protected from the radiation, while the Decepticons embrace it and grow all kinds of mutations. Cheesy? Nothing all too different from canon really.

"So how much energon is down there, anyway?" asked Bluestreak, peering over the ridge before turning back to Jazz and Ratchet.

Jazz sighed, turning his masked head in Bluestreak's direction. "Not enough," he said, "It ain't anywhere near enough to fuel even a single man."

"Then why are we fighting for it...?" said Bluestreak, his voice soft. The young man was fidgeting, twiddling his gloved fingers. He was uncertain about the battle raging below, that much was obvious, but Jazz knew Bluestreak was far more concerned about his dearest friend.

"Pride," said the medic fusing together bits of steel and skin on Jazz's legs. Ratchet straightened himself after a moment, looking up at Bluestreak. His face, being visible rather than fully masked, was blank of expression. "Optimus isn't going to let Megatron take a single drop of energon the easy way. You both know that." He looked at Jazz, who was leaning back and supporting himself with his hands. "Your legs are fine now. The energon flow was just being blocked."

Without another word, Ratchet turned and made to rejoin the rest of the medical staff, leaving Bluestreak and Jazz alone on the ridge. Jazz began to stand, with Bluestreak helping him up.

"I'm not really sure if what we're doing is right," said Bluestreak as Jazz steadied himself, "I mean, the 'Cons are technically human too, right? Even if they're all growing those weird mutations."

"I know what you mean, Blue," mumbled Jazz as he tested his legs, "but it's not our place to question what Optimus thinks is best for us." Jazz had lived through several bombings, had seen good men and women go insane due to experiments, had killed former allies, had been ordered to leave allies behind, and still, here he was, Optimus's third. It was simply easier to be blindly loyal.

Bluestreak seemed ready to argue, so Jazz was, at that moment, thankful for the explosion that went off somewhere beyond the ridge.

"Prowl...!" cried out Bluestreak, abandoning Jazz to run for the ridge. Jazz followed him at a slower pace, the strength in his legs still returning. He was suddenly less thankful for the explosion's interruption.

The scene beyond the ridge was...well, Jazz had seen many like it before, but he knew, all too well, that Bluestreak had not. Flames blazed all about, pieces of red-hot metal were just beginning to cool and everything within the blast zone had likely been completely decimated.

Energon explosions tended to be like that.

"We have to get down there," said Bluestreak, already undoing the latches on his backpack. He, like all support units, carried a specific set of supplies in case of emergency. Jazz shook his head.

"Not yet, Blue," he said, reaching over and placing a hand over Bluestreak's. The latter had been about to drop his backpack. At Jazz's touch, Bluestreak withdrew his hands, flinching.

"But...but we have to get down there! What about Prowl?"

Jazz grimaced, glad for the mask that kept his face hidden. "Blue, you go down there now and not even Ratchet can fix you up. Slag, if you don't die right away, _he'll_ kill you for walking straight into a death trap and then he'll kill _me_ for letting you do it."

"But -"

"No buts on this one," said Jazz as firmly as he could. To emphasize this, he reached out and placed a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder. "Optimus knows better than to bring a fight close enough to energon to trigger explosions. Whoever was stupid enough is probably dead, and you and I both know Prowl ain't anywhere near that level of stupid."

"I...you're right..." Bluestreak fell quiet, face turning towards the ridge. Jazz had to wonder what kind of expression he was wearing now.

"C'mon, Blue," said Jazz after a moment. He started to steer Bluestreak away from the ridge, glad that he wasn't trying to resist him. "The medics know what to do."

They started towards the medic's tent in silence, and it was well within sight when a dark figure appeared in the sky, rushing towards the them. Jazz wasted no time in dragging Bluestreak down, crouching low to the ground as the figure swept over them.

"Get to the medics!" shouted Jazz, pushing Bluestreak towards the tent. The young man did not hesitate, moving forward as quickly as he could despite the weight of his backpack.

Jazz followed, drawing his gun and aiming at the sky. Their attacker easily dodged his shots, and just as Jazz fired again, he heard, for the second time that day, an explosion go off.

He knew in his gut what had happened even before he turned around. The medic's tent lay in shambles. Jazz's grip on his gun tightened, more so when a second flier, the one who had likely triggered the explosion, landed before the building.

The first flier joined him, then a third seemed to come out of nowhere. 

Jazz began to back away, though he could not seem to turn away now that he could see them better. They seemed to be men, but with wings for arms and plumage for hair. They laughed as they conversed, before becoming silent and...

The one in the middle, with feathers of red and blue, suddenly looked up, directly at Jazz.

"Scrap," muttered Jazz, just as a question rose to his mind. 'Where the slag did Megatron find these three birdbrains?'


End file.
